Monday, 21 October 2013

On Stuffed Toys...

As a twenty year old, (yes - nine years back – I believe they call that new maths), I once received a stuffed bear as a Christmas present from my current boyfriend and wasn’t all that impressed with the gift (translation: Politically correct for insulted, irritated and annoyed). 
  
For starters, I figured that stuffed bears were for children.  And what exactly did the stuffed bear mean anyway?  Did this man figure I was like a child?  Or was he looking for parent-child relationship not a partner?   But liking this man, led me to pretend that I liked the gift and the relationship continued... for a while...  A short while.  Not even long enough for him to become the ex-husband.

 The bear lasted a little longer however, and my daughter dragged it around by its purple bow tie when she was little.
 
I wonder, why do men give women stuffed toys?  Who came up with that idea anyway?  Am I the only woman who finds the stuffed toys a little inappropriate or gets irritated come time for Valentine’s Day with all the mugs and stuffed bears on public display?  Maybe I am.  It could be a case of misguided gender specific interests; after all I can spend more time in a hardware store looking at tools than shopping for clothes.  So I seriously doubt I speak for all women.

So, since I am not out to write the ten commandments of dating, I will concede that under some circumstances the gift of a plush beast can work; as a reminder of an occasion or event, as a...  No, that’s about all I can think of. 
      
In any case, I must concede that the stuffed toy did work really well for me once.  I was sent flowers for Valentine’s Day; a huge bouquet of roses and lilies with a stuffed bear.  Actually, I was sent two huge bouquets of roses and lilies with stuffed animals thanks to a mixed up internet transaction, not an overzealous stalker.  Yes, at the office.  Yes, a lot of comments.  I had more flowers sent to me that day than will grace my coffin someday; so at least I got to experience that when I was alive. 

Sorry..., mental distraction..., back to the working of the stuffed toys.  You see, they worked because the flowers were for me and the stuffed animals were for my daughter (who was nine at the time). 

That’s when the stuffed bear became classy.